


Tearing You Asunder

by Epiphanyx7



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, Begging, Blasphemy, Dark!Castiel, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub Undertones, Explicit Sexual Content, Hair-pulling, Humiliation, Kink, Language, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Porn With Plot, Rough Sex, angelic lecturing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-14
Updated: 2010-03-14
Packaged: 2017-11-01 01:14:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/350354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Epiphanyx7/pseuds/Epiphanyx7
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I expected you to fight," Castiel replies, his voice stern. "Can you fight me, Samuel?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tearing You Asunder

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sunspot (unavoidedcrisis)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/unavoidedcrisis/gifts).



> Sunspot said, _"Write me Sam/Castiel with dirty talk, hair pulling, and bottom!Sam_." I said, " _No, not unless it's dub!con_." and then she said " _Deal_ ," and somehow, this was the result. Um. Writing this made me feel... very dirty. I need a shower now. Title taken from the song "Running Up That Hill", performed by Placebo and originally performed and written by Kate Bush.

 

 

"I'm disappointed in you, Sam," Castiel says, his voice low. It sends a hard shiver though Sam's body, because Castiel's voice was always low but its a little bit rougher now, dropped just a bit deeper and that's for Sam, that's all for Sam.

"Why--" Sam grunts, twisting but not really managing to move from where Castiel's got him pinned down, one hand on his back holding him there as if a thousand tonnes of steel lay on his back.

He'd never realized how strong angels were before, but now Castiel's behind him and Sam's eyes are squeezed shut, and he can't hear anything at all except for his own panting, heaving breaths, and the slow, slick sounds of Castiel's fingers slipping in and out of him. Castiel's been fucking him like this, two fingers, slow and smooth as they press inside, just the barest amount of pressure on his prostate.

"Why," Sam moans. "Why are you disappointed, why -- Cas, Castiel -- why -- what did I--"

"I expected you to fight," Castiel replies, his voice stern. "Can you fight me, Samuel?"

Sam struggles, but Castiel's got him pinned and every single push of his fingers is sliding in so deep, splitting him open and tearing him apart on the inside. He feels like Castiel's touching his soul every time he presses inside, and Sam cannot fucking stand it. He tries to roll over, tries to fight Castiel's one-handed pin, tries to do anything -- but he can't move, can't do a single thing but moan as his hips shift to give Castiel better access.

"Pathetic," Castiel says. "Wanton, legs spread like a whore as your body begs me for more. Do you want more, Samuel?"

Sam groans. His hips shift again. Castiel is still behind him, but Sam feels him shift, feels Castiel leaning over him until he can feel him, feel his warmth and weight settling over Sam's back as he presses those fingers in again and again. He feels a puff of warm breath over his neck and tries not to shudder but it's there anyway.

Castiel's fingers slide free, and Sam whines noisy protest at the lost, hips shifting on the bed. Castiel stops him with a firm slap over his ass, stinging hard and flushing hot when Sam forces himself to lay still.

"Whore," Castiel says.

Sam doesn't argue with him.

Castiel presses back, the cloth of his suit scraping against Sam's bare skin as he pushes three fingers inside of him. "You didn't even make a token protest," He whispers in Sam's ear, like he knows that his voice gets Sam hot, gets him hard.

"You didn't even pretend that this wasn't what you wanted. I could tell you to do anything and you would, like a good little soldier. Kneel _down_ , Samuel--" he thrusts his fingers in hard, and it hurts and there's a stretch and burn Sam's not used to, not at all. "Open your _mouth_ , Samuel," punctuated by a sharp jab forward, riding on the edge of pain and it's strange and new and terrifying. "Suck my _cock_ , Samuel," Castiel snarls, and its _so fucking good_ , the low rumble of his voice and the spine-melting pleasure of his fingers in Sam's ass.

His orgasm blinds him, white flashing behind his eyes and Sam actually fucking screams, a high long girly _wail_ that's somehow made worse by the way Castiel just finger-fucks him through it, aftershocks like earthquakes and Sam can't do anything but grit his teeth and try to hold on.

It's the kind of pleasure that he's afraid might actually kill him.

Castiel waits until Sam's fully conscious again before he continues working him open, three fingers somehow becoming four while Sam's mind was away on vacation. "You want it," Castiel says, behind Sam. "Tell me you want it."

Sam moans but can't get his mouth to work, fumbling around the words and his tongue lying heavy and thick in his mouth. "I," he pants, "I want, I want -- oh, oh, and he's moaning again as Castiel's fingers press over his prostate, relentless and oh so fucking amazing.

"Repeat after me, Samuel," Castiel says, and maybe if he weren't twisting his fingers in the sheets trying to fuck himself on Castiel's fingers, Sam might think that the angel was amused by this. But he is, he's writhing and trying to beg Castiel for more even as he's trying to remember the words that fall so seamlessly from Castiel's lips as he murmurs so softly in Sam's ear.

"I want it," Sam moans, shaking. "I want it, I need it -- I -- fuck, fuck, Castiel, please, please," and then he's shivering and whimpering, face down on the mattress. "Please, Cas," he begs, and Castiel doesn't respond to the pleading in his voice. "Please Cas," He gasps again, "Fuck me, please, I need it, I want you to fuck me, please, please, please---"

"Tell me you'll do anything," Castiel orders, and Sam sobs the words out against the pillow.

He's hard again, even though it's physically impossible, he's not quite sure he was ever really allowed to get soft. Its amazing and it hurts and it's so fucking good, so fucking terrible and so fucking good, and Sam says it over and over again like a mantra. "I'll do anything, I'll do anything, please fuck me, please fuck me Castiel, I'll do anything."

"Anything I want," Castiel says, and Sam nods frantically.

"Anything you want," He parrots.

Castiel's hand slides from Sam's back to his hair, jerking his head back. Sam can feel the strain in his neck, trying to fight against the angel's grip but not managing anything other than a sharp flare of pain in his scalp. "Open your eyes," the angel says.

Sam opens his eyes, blinks back blurry half-tears and tries to focus on the headboard in front of him. "Okay," he mumbles, because he thinks that this is what Castiel wants, this is what Castiel needs from him. "Okay," he says again, "My eyes are open, I opened them -- please, Cas, anything you want--"

"Tell me what a whore you are," Castiel says, yanking hard on Sam's hair, lifting him off of the bed.

It's fucking surreal but Castiel's still finger-fucking him, and Sam's traitorous dick thinks that Castiel is the best thing ever, better than an ice cold beer, better than ice cream, better than the dark rush of power when he sucks down another mouthful of tainted blood.

"Tell me," And Sam gasps, fucked open and still wanting, mouths the words to the open air and then somehow manages to convince his lips and teeth to form them into something audible.

"I'm a whore," he mumbles. "I'm a whore, Cas, I don't know -- tell me what to do, tell me what I need to do, please fuck me -- I need it, please, please, Cas."

"Tell me," Castiel repeats, harsher, pulling Sam onto his knees, settling him with his legs spread over Castiel's own bent knees. Sam's breathing is harsh and laboured but Castiel doesn't stop, just tugs on the locks of hair he has tangled in his finger, until Sam's back is arched and his head is resting on Castiel's shoulder, and he's trembling and fucking himself down onto Castiel's fingers.

"Whore," Sam says, shivering. "I'm -- slut. Hungry. I want it, I want it so bad -- I want your cock, I'm a whore and I need you, I need you to fuck me, I want... please, please Cas," and his voice breaks, hips shaking as he tries to maintain the rhythm, the almost brutal pace that Castiel has set for him.

"Tell me how much you want my cock," Castiel says, grimly, and Sam can see the angel's face when he turns his head, and Castiel's eyes are blue and unfathomable and his lips are bright red and bitten.

"I want your cock," Sam says, obediently, fucking down on Castiel's fingers and staring at his mouth. "I fucking love it, love when you fuck me, want your cock inside me, want to feel you filling me up -- you make me feel -- you make me feel-- " and he can't finish the sentence, can't keep his eyes open, can't fucking handle the sheer overwhelming pleasure that rolls through him, can't fucking comprehend what the hell Castiel has done to him.

"Say yes," Castiel whispers, and Sam nods his head, weakly, and whispers back, "Yes. Yes, please."

"You'll give me anything, Samuel?"

"Anything," Sam promises, eager and trembling, Castiel's fingers slip out of him, and Sam can feel where he's loose and worked open, his hips canting eagerly, wanting to be fucked, wanting to be filled up, wanting to feel something again -- he doesn't realize that he's saying it out loud but he is, murmuring the words softly against Castiel's jaw. "Want you, need you-- anything you want, i'll do anything, ask me for anything, I'll do it, I promise, I'll let you do whatever you want to me, you can have me, I'm yours, I'm yours, anything you want Castiel but I need you to fuck me, fuck me right now--"

And Castiel's unbuttoning his trousers, sliding his cock free without taking off any of his clothes, and that shouldn't be hot but Sam's so fucking far gone that everything Castiel does is tilting him closer and closer to the edge.

"Cas," Sam moans, and Castiel presses into him slowly, one long hot slide that feels like too much and not enough all at once. His cock is thick and it feels huge, sliding in, not enough lube to really be comfortable and Sam wouldn't have it any other way. "Please," He begs, desperate for Castiel to push him back down and fuck him.

"You promised me anything, Sam," Castiel says, and he yanks sharply at Sam's hair, forcing his back to arch again, Sam's hips lifting on instinct as he curves away.

"Anything," Sam repeats weakly, staring up at the ceiling.

"Show me how much you want me," Castiel says, and he grabs onto Sam's hip with slick wet fingers and pulls him down, hard.

Sam's going to have bruises on his hip for a week, he's going to have a sore spot on his scalp from the sharp pulls on his hair, he's going to have fucking whiplash from Castiel dragging him around like a rag doll. And right now, he doesn't fucking care, because Castiel's cock is inside him, and he can work for it, he can do what Castiel wants, he can make Castiel proud.

Sam rides him, even though the position isn't easy on his back or his legs, even though his hands are left flailing with nothing to hold on to. His thighs quiver with tension as he lifts his hips, fucking himself back on Castiel's cock, letting Castiel change the angle or pace with a touch on his hip or a tug on his hair. Sam does all the work, does everything just the way Castiel wants it, because he's good, because if he doesn't this is going to stop and he's never going to feel right again.

"Tell me, Sam," Castiel says into his ear. "How you can resist me."

"I can't," Sam moans, sharp thrusts hitting his prostate, hips jerking back. "Can't resist you, Cas, I don't want to, I don't, I can't and I don't want to--"

"Tell me how you can say no to me." Castiel says, hips lifting and pressing up, just a little bit, fucking spectacular.

"I can't," Sam moans again, and Castiel rewards him with a sharper, stronger thrust. "I can't say no-- I'll do anything, anything."

"Tell me how much you want me."

And Sam obeys again, because Castiel is everything he's ever wanted, everything he's ever needed, and Castiel fucks him leisurely, slow but excruciatingly hard, every thrust sending stars spinning behind Sam's half-closed eyelids.

"Say yes," Castiel whispers once more.

He groans it, gasps "Yes, yes, _yes_ ," and he's wrecked, completely broken, shattered into a thousand fucking pieces and there's nothing, nothing in the world except this, except Castiel and Sam and the one word he remembers, " _Yes yes yesyesyesyes--"_

Sam comes on a loud, unfettered moan, his cock spurting over his chest and dripping down over his overheated skin.

There are slick wet sounds, Castiel still moving inside of him, Sam's legs desperately trying to keep up, keep riding him, keep up the mind-numbing pleasure. He's still hitting Sam's prostate and it's too good, too much, and then Castiel drags Sam down onto him again, harder, and stills.

He's quiet, breathing soft and wet against Sam's shoulder, and Sam feels like he's been hit by a jet engine and weighted down by a two-ton weight, because his body won't respond to his commands except for a feeble, tentative twitch.

"What..." Sam says, and he wants to say _What the fuck was that_ , or _What just happened_ , or maybe even _What did you do to me_ , except he knows the answers to all of those questions and none of them make any goddamn sense.

"What?" Castiel says behind him, his tone mocking, harsh. "What makes you think, Samuel, that you can avoid saying yes to Lucifer?"

Sam turns to look, and Castiel looks as immaculate as always, the evidence of what he'd just done tucked away as if it had never existed. The angel's face is dark with some unnamed emotion, one that Sam thinks might be disdain.

"Do you really think," Castiel adds, "That the devil himself is less persuasive than I am?" 

Blushing hot, Sam looks away, looks down at the floor and tries not to think of the dark, demanding growl in Castiel's voice when he'd whispered in Sam's ear, _Say yes_. There's something burning on his face and Sam thinks at first it might be shame, but when he looks up the motel room is empty, and when he drags his hand over his face the fingers come away wet.

_Say yes._

Closing his eyes, Sam remembers saying _Yes_ , remembers chanting it, begging, _yes yes yesyesyesyes--_ and for a long moment he can't for the life of him remember why the hell he'd even wanted Castiel at all.

\--


End file.
